


String-Along with Me

by cold_feets



Category: History Boys (2006)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cold_feets/pseuds/cold_feets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the loo, Dakin kisses him, and it's the same test it always is, pushing for something he knows he'll never get, which makes it safe, which makes it predictable, easy and reassuring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	String-Along with Me

It happens over pints as most things with Dakin usually do these days, the feel of a glass in his hand substantial and real in a way Dakin's future is not as the last weeks of university wind down.

There are exams to study for, papers to write, notes to revise, but it's near eleven at night, and they are in the shuttered dark of a pub, table littered with empty glasses, and Dakin is on about some girl who broke his heart because Dakin is an idiot who falls in love about once a week with no mind to the fact that Scripps came to university to study, not to listen to Dakin moan about girls.

"It's all fucked," Dakin slurs, peering down into the dregs of his Guinness.

It's not. It never is for Dakin.

In the loo, Dakin kisses him, and it's the same test it always is, pushing for something he knows he'll never get, which makes it safe, which makes it predictable, easy and reassuring. And Scripps lets him, backed against the wall, hands hanging by his sides as Dakin tugs at the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer even though Dakin knows he won't follow.

And after a moment, Dakin drops his head against Scripps's shoulder, and Scripps turns his head just enough to press his nose into Dakin's hair. It's an apology. It's the same apology every time, and Dakin takes it and leaves without another word.

Scripps glances in the mirror, his collar crooked, his shirt half untucked, the warmth of Dakin still lingering on his skin, and his French notes at home, untouched.


End file.
